


Danse Macabre

by queenmab_scherzo



Series: Symphony of a Thousand [4]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Halloween, M/M, and denying their feelings, dorks being dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmab_scherzo/pseuds/queenmab_scherzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween. Aidan has to inject Dean with some holiday spirit. Takes place after chapter 12 of "Music is Good to Hear," but also stands alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danse Macabre

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyZaniahStrangeling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyZaniahStrangeling/gifts).



> based on Zaniah's prompt. it's utter crack. pure fun.

"Wear either all black or a costume. Once again, the dress code: either all black or a costume."

It must be the fifteenth time Philippa makes the announcement. Dean has it memorized by now. He leans over and mutters the mantra under his breath along with Philippa, and Graham has to cover his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Apparently it's a tradition. Every year they give a Halloween concert and perform scary music, from classics like [_Danse Macabre_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyknBTm_YyM), [_Night on Bald Mountain_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCEDfZgDPS8), and the [_March to the Scaffold_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwCuFaq2L3U), to themes from films like _Jaws_ and _Beetlejuice_ and _Frankenstein_. It's fun, of course, Dean had a good time last year, it was all just a bit of a culture shock. So now he's more prepared. And he already knows Philippa's dress code lecture by heart.

"We should dress up as a pair! Wouldn't that be adorable?"

That's Alice, the sweetheart who sits second to Dean in the oboe section and never misses an opportunity to look extravagant and fierce. If the orchestra had to vote on a fashion icon, it would be Alice. She's also recently finished grad school—this is her first year with the symphony—so she's almost ten years younger than Dean and boasts ten more years of energy and enthusiasm.

"Oh—" He forces out a laugh, a little shocked and a little terrified. "I'm—I don't—did you have something in mind?"

" _Dean_." She turns a little in her seat, and when he sees her expression, all eyebrows and pursed lips, Dean steels himself for a scolding. "It would be fantastic, trust me. We could be, like, Jack and Sally? You know? Nightmare before Christmas?"

Dean bites his lip and shrugs one shoulder. The names don't ring a bell.

"Or the Flinstones. Or—could I get you to be Han Solo?! You would be a great Han Solo."

"Can I wear something that goes with all black?"

"…Come _on_. Where's your sense of fun?"

"I don't know, I just—the people here go all out. I don't want to compete with that."

"What do you mean they go all out?" she asks. "We should, too!"

"No, no, trust me. This is like, an event. You'd think these people spend the entire year planning things out and building stuff. Seriously. Not worth it." He can tell that Alice is trying not to pout. "I mean, I won't stop _you_ ," Dean adds, mostly out of guilt. "I just— _I'll_ be wearing black."

"What if I bring you something to go with the black?" she says, immediately chipper again. "Like a … samurai sword. Oh, or kitty cat ears!"

"I'm not wearing kitty cat ears," Dean sighs, but his argument is half-hearted by now. Luckily she gets the picture and stops hounding him, although she turns to the English horn player on her left and continues to discuss simple Halloween options that could go with black, and that they might force on their unenthusiastic section leader.

After rehearsal, Dean is shuffling with sheet music, trying to get things back in order when someone bumps into his shoulder.

"Aidan, you're gonna make me drop my oboe."

"I barely touched you."

Dean looks up and squints into the stage lights, leaning away from the French horn in his face. When it's lit from behind, Aidan's hair becomes this glowing, untamed mass of twigs. Probably hasn't been combed in years. Dean smiles. "Sounds good back there."

"Yeah, you too," Aidan says, waving off the compliment. "But listen—what are you dressing up as for the concert?"

"Oh." And Dean can taste the awkward in that silence. He winces. " … For fuck's sake, come down here at least so I don't have to look up at the stage lights."

"Not my fault you're hobbit-sized."

"I'm _sitting down_ , you moron."

Aidan rolls his eyes, but he squats next to Dean's seat, horn resting on one knee. "So?" he prompts. "What are you wearing for the concert?"

Dean glances over Aidan's head at Alice. She's trying _so_ hard not to listen in on their conversation, but her goofy grin gives her away. "I'm wearing black. Black shirt black pants black tie."

The effect this admission has on Aidan is astounding. He folds practically in half, his shoulders and elbows and eyebrows all collapsing with incredulity. He fixes that look of abject shock and dismay on Dean and doesn't let go. Doesn't say anything.

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm— _what_?"

"You're not wearing a costume," Aidan deadpans.

"It's a concert, what do you want from me?" Dean begins disassembling his oboe, removing the reed and sticking it between his lips while he works.

"It's not just a concert, Dean. It's _Halloween_. You can't just wear _black_ for the Halloween concert."

Dean rounds on him, shifting the reed to the corner of his mouth to speak, and noticing the way Aidan's eyes follow the motion. "Well, what are _you_ wearing?" Dean asks.

Aidan immediately breaks into a cheeky grin. "You'll see."

Dean might actually contract a headache from rolling his eyes so hard. "The concert's not even on Halloween," he says around the reed. " _Today_ is Halloween. Tomorrow is November. No one should be dressing up in November."

"You have no sense of fun."

"I just don't get the big fuss, is all."

"Mm-hm." Aidan shakes his head in disappointment. "I'm going to— _we'll_ get you in a costume, won't we, Alice?"

"Oh thank god, _yes_." She nearly collapses with relief, either from the news that Dean will be in costume after all or from not having to eavesdrop anymore.

* * *

Aidan is good for his word. He buzzes up to Dean's flat late--past eleven--because apparently he's gone shopping in the hour since they left rehearsal. When Dean opens his front door Aidan shoves past him and dumps an armful of shopping bags onto Dean's couch. When Dean asks what he just allowed in his front door, Aidan shoots him an exasperated smile. "This is your costume. And some of mine. And some adult beverages to celebrate."

"We celebrated two days ago at Adam's."

"Yeah, two days _before_ Halloween. And you refused to dress up. I'm not letting you get away with that again, O'Gorman." Dean pokes at a bag, and Aidan slaps his hand away. "Watch it, you sneak," he harps, then procures a small paper bag without a label and hands it over. "This one is yours."

"I'm afraid to look," Dean says, but he smiles from under his lashes and catches Aidan watching him closely, biting his lip. It always throws him off-kilter. Aidan is effortless romance and slanted grace and unpredictable harmony and every time he focuses all of it on _Dean_ , it's an instant high, filling up his lungs, burning them inside-out.

Aidan breaks the spell with a weak chuckle, then turns his attention to the grocery bag. While Aidan collects a six-pack and a bottle of Chardonnay, Dean peeks into his own bag. A jumble of scarlet and gold lies curled at the bottom. Dean reaches in and pulls out the end of a very long, very thick knitted scarf.

"What's this?" he asks.

Aidan winks. "I think you're more of a Ravenclaw, but red and yellow were the only colors I could find."

"… Do you plan on dressing me up as Harry _Potter?_ "

Aidan laughs and plants a kiss on Dean's cheek on the way to the refrigerator. "You _are_ a wizard. If I may say so."

"A wizard musician?" Dean asks, but Aidan has already swept away into the kitchen. He coughs pointedly, and Dean snorts. "So it's just the scarf?" Dean asks, digging through the coils of knitwear for signs of any other costume paraphernalia.

"Yes, darling. I've gone easy on you this time." Metallic sounds drift from the kitchen as Aidan digs in a drawer for a bottle opener. "You can still wear black, and just be an anonymous Hogwarts student. Who happens to play oboe."

Dean hums in response. He draws the scarf out and runs his hands over the plush threads. The appeal of Halloween makes sense to him, at least from a purely logical standpoint. The purposeless joy. Dressing up and gorging on sweets and becoming someone else for a night and forgetting it all in a haze of alcohol the next morning. It's just not really a Kiwi thing. You can't light a candle with no wick.

When he draws himself out of his thoughts and turns around, Aidan is standing there with a soft smile and two glasses of wine.

Dean can't help but smile back. "Fine, you win." He slings the scarf over one shoulder and slips into Aidan's personal space.

"You're gonna make me spill," Aidan says, but he leans closer, until their noses almost touch.

"Then kiss me so we can get to drinking."

He does, but as always, Dean can't be satisfied with just one kiss. They tilt together, and their lips are their only point of contact, and it's a heady thing, like he's blowing in the wind and wrapped up in heat at the same time; like his toes are curled around the edge of the cliff and as long as he doesn't breathe, he'll never fall.

Somewhere along the way, the wine glasses wind up on an end table and Aidan's hands end up in Dean's pants. He distracts Dean with the soft slide of tongue against his teeth, and then his zipper is down and—the apartment echoes with a knock on the door.

It makes Aidan start and his grip around Dean goes tight and forces an embarrassing choked-out whimper past Dean's lips.

"Oh my God."

"What?" Dean says breathlessly. Is he missing something? Who's wandering around his building when it's almost midnight, anyway?

"Trick-or-treaters!"

… _Oh_. Dean groans and arches in for another kiss. "Keep going. They'll go away."

But Aidan's hand disappears. "You can't _ignore_ them!" He looks mortified, but Dean is still trying to work through the fog of arousal.

"Can't—I'm not—why?"

"What do you mean _why?!_ "

There's another knock on the door, a rapid-fire drumroll. Dean is quickly beginning to question the appeal of Halloween, after all.

Aidan looks at him expectantly. "So answer it, won't you?"

Dean looks down at the state of his trousers and shoots Aidan an incredulous scowl. Aidan simply folds his arms.

Dean can't quite believe what he's doing, but he adjusts his zipper and refastens the button and makes sure everything's G-rated before crossing the front room and turning the knob.

He is greeted by a high-pitched chorus of "Happy Halloween!"

Iron Man, Princess Peach, and a member of the Arsenal football club blink up at him, each holding up an old pillow-case expectantly.

"Where are all the sweets in this place?" Aidan calls, his head in a cupboard.

"The what?" It's not that Dean doesn't understand the ritual, he just isn't finding it easy to shift his attention from _living-room-sex_ to _entertaining-annoying-children_.

" _Sweets_ ," Aidan prompts. "Sugar. Chocolate. Haven't you got any _chocolate_ in the house?"

"I mean, just the fairy cakes Adam sent home with us."

Aidan shoots him this look that says _well? Get on with it._

"Adam made those for _me_."

"For crying out—he made me some too, I'll bring them over to share tomorrow night." Without a moment to spare for argument, Aidan tears into the foil-wrapped plastic plate and holds it out for Dean. He raises both eyebrows. "Go on."

Dean's still too out-of-it to argue. After he relinquishes his three cakes, the children stare at him, open-mouthed, and disappear without so much as a thank you.

Dean closes the door and hisses, "Why did I give up my sweets to them, again? So ungrateful."

Aidan bursts into laughter. "Trust me, they weren't ungrateful. They were just trying to figure out how to scarf those down before their Mum takes them away."

Supremely worn-out by all things Halloween, Dean crosses to the kitchen with a huff. He dumps the foil and crumbs into the trash bin and clatters the plate into the sink. He turns back to Aidan with a a hand on his hip.

"Aw, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Dean pouts. "If anyone else knocks, I'm not answering."

With a pitying smile, Aidan hooks his fingers into Dean's waistband and pulls him close. "They were probably the only kids in this tiny building."

"I don't care how many kids are in this building." Dean slides his hands up under Aidan's shirt. "I believe I was in the middle of something."

"Don't be a Scrooge."

"Wrong holiday."

Aidan makes up for the interruption. Not that Dean could have held it against him.

The Halloween concert the next night is a _spectacle_. Dean would never admit it, but it turns out to be some of the most fun he's ever had performing. Just as he promised to Alice, many of the performers are dressed to the nines. Dean feels satisfied with his simple black ensemble, scarf hanging in neat loops around his neck.

Then there are the percussionists, all in skin-tight Power Ranger suits. (Orlando Bloom pulls this look off considerably better than, say, Stephen Hunter.) Cate Blanchett looks resplendent as Maleficent. Richard Armitage arrives in full gear right out of Braveheart—facepaint, mullet, and all—and Graham looks torn between collapsing with laughter and violently ending their principal cellist's life.

When he sees the horn section, Dean fully understands his own costume. Each of the four horn players represents a different Hogwarts house—the robes, the hats, the wands, and the brightly-colored striped ties. Aidan himself has a pair of crooked glasses and a scar drawn on his forehead. When they meet backstage, Dean reaches out and gives Aidan's red-and-gold tie a tug.

"We match," Dean points out.

Aidan shoots him a smug smile. Dean drops his hand and looks around furtively, because god he doesn't _want_ to—he'd much rather wrap that tie around his fingers and pull Aidan in close, too close—but public displays of affection are risky at the best of times. So he curls his fingers at his side and says, softly, "Thanks for the costume."

Aidan shrugs. The crinkles around his eyes deepen with his smile. "'Course. It's Halloween."

**Author's Note:**

> this is unedited, let me know if i missed anything horrible :)


End file.
